


Formation

by TolkienGirl



Series: All That Glitters Gold Rush!AU: The Full Series [287]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Angst, F/M, Father-Son Relationship, Gen, Love, Miscommunication, Non-Linear Narrative
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-20
Updated: 2020-08-20
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:33:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26004229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TolkienGirl/pseuds/TolkienGirl
Summary: "You shall have to be my guardian."
Relationships: Fëanor | Curufinwë & Maedhros | Maitimo, Fëanor | Curufinwë/Nerdanel
Series: All That Glitters Gold Rush!AU: The Full Series [287]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1300685
Comments: 1
Kudos: 10





	Formation

_10 mos, 13 days – first step of Maedhros N. M. Feanorian (Finwean)_

_1 y 1 mo, 10 days – first word “Athair”*_

_*Maedhros has made infant cries and sounds for some time, “M” syllables – could be his own name or his way of asking for “mathair” without properly—_

“So it was you, Athair? You kept a book of all our first accomplishments?”

“Only yours.” It is not a failing—it does not have to be a failing. “You were the eldest, and so I recorded a standard by which to judge the others.”

“My first step.” An almost-teasing glance. “What of my first reel?”

“Much shakier.”

“ _Athair_!”

“I jest—you know I jest. You’ve always had the footwork of a king.”

_Dear Maedhros,_

_I hope you have not forgotten to practice your Gaeilge with Maglor. It is the one subject I can entrust to no master, no City-dweller. It is a gift we must never lose… a gift that no one may ever be permitted to steal._

With the finest point, and the finest strokes, it was possible to paint metal by removing speck after speck.

Michael shone, his wings incredibly feathered in miniature.

“You are grown so tall—you are taller than me, I declare—no I do not resent it—how could you think I resent it—” A laugh. “You shall have to be my guardian, that is all. A very stalwart guardian.”

His defiance is the deepest terror you know. You have given him something, along with what _your_ father has given him, and in the face of this opportunity for triune strength, he—he has love for Fingolfin and Fingolfin’s children written on him.

Defiance and such _scorn_. Your anger is molten. It will destroy a world before it cools enough to shape a youthful mind. But even now, in this unfettered rush, you will not strike him. You will not strike your son. He does not understand how you love him.

He does not know you at all.

(He does. He does. You lie awake, stiff with something that is not anger, yet that also will not cool, and you tell yourself and the banked darkness, that he knows and loves you like he did when he was young.)

_Dear Maedhros, my son, my darling—_

_Dear Sir:_

“I want you to call on Fingon. That will be no hardship, will it?”

_There is a purpose in all things, there is a path before our feet. Don’t you understand? Enough—enough. I know that you do. I know that we need never be afraid again, for we have seen the whites of our enemies’ eyes, and we have heard and deciphered the lies of their tongues. Blood is blood, and grief is grief, but we were made for fight and freedom. There is a path. Here, walk with me._

“Feanor, he shall not be born for another month. There shall be time to advise him then, and forever after. Yes, yes! You might write to him. I am not weary of _you_ , my love, I am only very weary _generally_ —”

_Dear Maedhros (for that shall be your name)_

“No, Nerdanel, it won’t do.”

_You’ve always…you are…I know…_

_There is a path before our feet._

_Where are we going?_


End file.
